


A muddy experience

by whumpertrooper



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Gen, Whump, h/c, weekly whump challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25527148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumpertrooper/pseuds/whumpertrooper
Summary: An unfortunate series of events... kind of. Charlie just having a strange night.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11





	A muddy experience

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written during the weekend in response to the weekly whump prompt challenge on discord. It is not part of my A to Z Charlie whump, just a simple, short one shot in between working on a longer fic. I hope you still enjoy :)

It was... one of those days. When things just didn't work out right. Not exactly wrong either though because really, Charlie imagined he might have ended up much worse.  
As it was... he was still spitting out murky water, his feet dragging through the muddy shore.

All in all, he couldn't really complain.

He could have been shot after all. He could have stumbled or misjudged the distance and end up on the rocky land, instead of the river. He could have hit his head, or turned the wrong way or hell, he could have just been a second too late to close his mouth to stop the water from pouring in after his scream died off.

All of these options would have resulted in him dead. Shot or drowned... or mangled.  
Putting his shoeless feet on the rather dry land, he remembered a moment of his right foot catching on something under the water, but he couldn't tell how he lost the other one. Charlie concluded that it could have been worse.

It still didn't make the shivering go away. The air was cold and he was wet. Of course. He had just crawled out of the river and it was pitch dark. Not exactly the situation he wanted to be in.

He looked up at the sliver of moon, brushing wet hair from his face and eyes. It couldn't even be a full moon, so he could have at least some source of light.  
His bare foot caught on a tree root and before he knew it he was falling again. This time he managed to stop himself from face planting on the shore, but it cost him. The palms of his hands hit the rocky ground along with his knees, and he could feel the rocks digging into his skin painfully, the sudden stop reverberating through his whole body.

"Bloody hell!" Charlie sputtered, cringing. He had just about enough. His throbbing hands felt around the ground, searching for any danger, hoping they wouldn't encounter some dangerous wildlife. All he felt were rocks and muddy ground by his feet, the river water occasionally splashing against his calves.  
With a grunt he let the gravity pull him down and rolled onto his back. The river bank was at a slight incline, so the position was almost comfortable, if one ignored the various pebbles and small roots digging into ones back.

Charlie let out a breathe and clenched his teeth to stop them from rattling. The light from the sliver of moon was cascading over the rolling waters of the river, showing him which way the current went. As if Charlie needed a reminder.

He wasn't sure how far the river took him. Nothing he could see was familiar enough to identify his location, though to be truthful, all he could see was the dark silhouette of the incline and shadows of a few red gum trees, leaning over almost threateningly. At least he hoped it were trees and not some creature...

Charlie blinked. The shadows didn't move, the shape familiar. He let out a sigh, irritated by his own paranoia. Perhaps it was all the water he managed to swallow. Or the shock of still being alive.

For a moment he tried to calm down enough to think. He was in a bit of a pickle after all. He wasn't sure how far the river took him. It was close to midnight, which meant he would have to wait at least five more hours for sunlight. Charlie wasn't sure he could make it that long without freezing if he stayed in place. Under different circumstances he would have thought of waiting. Help was bound to arrive, right? All they had to do was follow the river bank...

Trouble was, he didn't know if anyone even realised what happened to him.

* * *

He was working a night shift when he got a call from Bendigo about an armed robbery at the local jewellery store. The thieves were headed to Ballarat. Charlie made a quick call to inform Lawson, then he grabbed constable Gareth who was on night duty as well. They got into their cars and headed towards the last reported location of the thieves car, hoping that they would stay on the main and they might cut them off somewhere.

They were in luck it seemed, as Charlie heard the radio crackle and he got news that the suspect car was heading straight at them. They were nearing a bridge over the Yarrowee river. An old, wooden bridge... barely wide enough for two cars. Perfect.

Charlie and Gareth parked their cars in the middle of the bridge, blocking the way. The darkness played into their cards. Charlie turned off their headlights and they waited, unseen. Until they heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Charlie waited until the last moment, then turned on the headlights. There was the screeching of the tires and for a second Charlie thought they might've miscalculated. Perhaps the car won't stop, but plough right through them. Or it will manage to turn and they would be losing precious time getting in pursuit.

These thoughts however were useless, he found out. The car came to a halt only few feet from them. Charlie caught sight of two men, before there was gunfire. He hid behind the safety of his car and returned fire.

Charlie was pretty sure he or Gareth had got one of the men as they heard a cry of pain and the shooting had suddenly ceased. Still, Charlie was careful as he left the cover of the car. A man was writhing on the wooden planks, bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. The other one was kneeling next to him, trying to help. It was clear they had been close, perhaps family. Charlie cringed, but still approached them, warning loudly about any sudden movements.

What followed next was a quick and sufficient securing of both suspects. Gareth stayed with the injured man, who was now handcuffed and unconscious. He was applying some pressure to the wound, while Charlie led the equally handcuffed uninjured thief towards his own car. He had just pushed the man inside and closed the backdoor, ready to go to the front and reach for the radio. He wanted to give the Bendigo backup their exact location and request an ambulance, even though he was pretty sure he could hear the sirens in the distance.

"Don't move!" came a voice and Charlie froze.

It was a woman. He couldn't believe that.

"Let my brother go!" she said and Charlie slowly turned his head.

"Stop!" she hissed and Charlie heard the sound of a trigger being cocked. He swallowed.

"Wait. Just... wait," he managed to get through his suddenly dry throat.

"Stop moving!" she hissed again and Charlie felt the nuzzle push against his back. Pushing him closer towards the railing.

"Okay," he said and ever so slowly raised his hands.

"Drop the gun!" she said, voice still low but dangerous. Charlie wondered how come Gareth didn't notice. But perhaps Gareth had been the first one surprised.

The sirens were closer and Charlie caught sight of blinking lights. Help was coming.

That wasn't exactly a good thing though.

What followed next was a series of rather unfortunate events. The man in the car decided it was a good time for an escape, obviously noticing the presence of his sister. What he didn't realise was the fact his opening of the door would put Charlie behind a temporary cover from the gun.

Charlie wasn't even sure how it happened. He felt the door smack him in the side, pushing him stumbling onto the railing, his gun dropping to the ground. The sister had startled and her own gun fired.

Charlie didn't know if the bullet hit anyone. The brother had slammed into the car door either in fright or being hit. The movement caused the door to once again hit Charlie. He hadn't yet regained his balance and he could see the gun waving dangerously in the air, the woman letting out a scream of rage. He was basically trapped between his car door and the railing. He might've tried to run or move in front of the car to get some distance between them, but there was still the matter of the gun. Pointed right at his face. He had nowhere to go really, but down.

Without much thought he simply leaned his upper body over the railing. He was already balancing precariously so it wasn't hard to keel over. The gravity then did the rest and he plummeted down several meters until he hit the water.

What followed was just a jumble of sensations. Rolling over in the current, cold water enveloping him in its dark embrace. Charlie kicking and scrambling around, his legs and arms trying to find some purchase, to get to the surface.

Finally, either luck or some river deity took pity on him and he managed to get out.

Which brought him here. Brooding about what to do. Stay, wait for help and risk freezing? Or traipse up the river bank, against the current and hope he would catch sight of some buildings?

As another shiver wracked his body, Charlie decided waiting wasn't an option. He had a feeling everyone was too busy trying to catch the suspects, if they managed to flee... not to mention no one really knew he went over the bridge.

Mustering up all his strength and courage... because walking barefoot in the dark wasn't exactly the safest thing to do... he started his hopefully not too long track.

* * *

It took him ages.

Or perhaps it was just an hour or two, Charlie wasn't sure. His progress was slow, as he kept slipping on the wet grass. He had decided to climb up the river bank incline after he had managed to step on a wet rock and landed with half his body back in the river. Fortunately it was in the shallow part and he got out quickly but he still didn't fancy repeating the experience.

So he walked on the grass, feet scratched and cut from small twigs and branches he kept stepping on. He didn't care though. He was still wet and cold and everything was getting numb. He almost preferred it.

Charlie was walking slowly, arms wrapped around his chest in an attempt to keep some warmth, even though it raised the risk of losing his balance. He felt his eyes slipping closed from time to time, but barely even noticed. It was so dark that he hardly saw a difference.

Until there was light.

Charlie stopped in his tracks, blinked. The light didn't vanish. He rubbed at his eyes. Now the light multiplied, but then settled back into one, well lit window. Charlie felt like he could weep. He made his way over to the house, climbing through a rickety fence and praying that there was no dog about to take a chunk of him.

When he knocked, it took a while for the door to open, and the first thing he saw was a frowning face and a shotgun.

Charlie stood, frozen in place.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked and Charlie squinted as the light from inside the house blinded him.

"S-sergeant D-Da-vis," he stuttered. "C-can I... use your... p-phone?"

It was a bit later that Charlie realized the only thing saving him from a swift refusal and slammed door was his uniform. Even wet and dirty from mud, it was recognizable.

So after a moment of hesitation, Charlie was ushered inside the house. He was offered a glass of moonshine that tasted worse than anything Charlie drank before, but made his insides turn all warm and gooey.

Unfortunately, the house he happened to find didn't have a phone. The man still offered to drive him into town.

Charlie swallowed another shot of the moonshine that was pushed into his hands. The shivering was gone... or maybe it was just lost in the way suddenly everything around him was kind of floating.

The man had chuckled as he grabbed Charlie's arm and steered him towards his truck.

"That stuff is vile, but I guarantee you won't catch a cold."

Charlie thought that was well worth the strange sensations.

"So where to, sergeant?"

Charlie should have said the police station. After all, he was still on duty. He needed to find out what happened to Gareth, whether the suspects were apprehended...

Instead he rattled off Blake's address.

* * *

Charlie wasn't sure what he expected when he knocked on the door in the middle of the night. He didn't really notice the truck had driven off, but he saw the lights were on in the kitchen. That was strange.

His knuckles barely touched the wood when the door flew open. There was a yelp, first startled, then an exclamation of joy.

"Charlie!"

Next moment he was pulled inside, a pair of soft arms wrapping around him surprisingly tightly. He stood there frozen, even as the hug vanished.

"What on earth happened to you?" Jean asked and Charlie felt her eyes running over him, up and down.

He followed the look and saw his bloody feet. Muddy pants and half dried uniform stinking like fish and dead leaves. He felt a blush creep onto his face, noting he had already tracked in all the mess.

"It was a bad day," Charlie managed to say, then swayed as the moonshine properly hit his brain.

Jean mumbled something he didn't catch under her nose, but without much effort moved under his arm for support. She led him to the kitchen and sat him down on the chair.

Charlie looked around sluggishly, noting the half empty cup of tea. He saw the tired and red rimmed eyes watching him with concern and had to look away.

"Where's Blake?" he asked, even as Jean turned on the stove to make more tea.

"Outside... looking for you! Along with Matthew. He got a call two hours ago about some shoot out and robbery and you going missing..."

Charlie cringed. He knew he should have gone to the station. But now that he was sitting down in the warm kitchen... the moonshine coursing through his veins, all he could think of was the bed.

"Oh. Did... did they catch them?"

Jean frowned.

"The robbers?"

Charlie nodded.

"I think so. Lucien said they were apprehended, but in no condition to talk."

"Gareth? He... he alive?" Charlie asked sheepishly.

Jean's eyes narrowed, but she gave a nod.

"There was an injured police officer on the scene. He didn't know what happened to you, he just heard shots and... Dear lord, Charlie... no one knew where you went!"

"Down the river," Charlie said, his hand making a gesture of a current, then chuckled, feeling relief flooding him. "Over the bridge and into water."

Jean shot him a worried look. The kettle on the stove whistled and before he knew it, there was a warm cup of tea in his hands. Jean had gone to the phone and Charlie blinked sleepily, watching her make the call.

He hoped Lawson would take pity on him and not complain about him going missing. Over the bridge. Charlie chuckled, unsure why. The room was starting to spin and Charlie put down the cup. Better not choke on tea after he survived the swim.

Jean had appeared in front of him with a blanket. Charlie let her help him take off the disgusting uniform, though he balked when she told him to change his pants too. He shook his head stubbornly and wrapped the offered blanket around his shoulders. That should do.

The warmth was welcome and wearing him down, his eyes slipping closed for longer periods. He felt something warm and wet touch his feet and startled.

"Just a bit of warm water, to clean them up. Lucien will take care of the wounds soon," Jean soothed as she eased his feet into a small basin and Charlie made a humming sound. The warmth was actually nice, even though he wasn't thrilled about the water. His eyes slipped closed again and he felt his head rest on his chest, body half leaning against the table.

There were more voices around and he forced his eyes open to a slit.

Blake and Lawson.

He let them slip closed again.

That was okay. He could rest. The day was over and he was home.

**THE END**


End file.
